


with shortness of breath, you explained the infinite

by madnessiseverything



Series: tales of narnia [13]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, M/M, Narnia is alive, Pre-Relationship, Stargazing, could take place in either medium, it's about the hands, minor mentions of drunkenness, post-the battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27370696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: “You’re Narnia’s to keep, Caspian. Trust her, and she will not lead you astray.”the one where peter helps caspian hear the way narnia sounds.
Relationships: Caspian/Peter Pevensie
Series: tales of narnia [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039454
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	with shortness of breath, you explained the infinite

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you have "two men in love" on a loop for hours while thinking about narnia being alive. canon-wise, this can be placed both into the book and the movie, as it doesn't reference any of the differences between the two. my usual narnia fics tend to play in a rough mix of the two, where caspian has more time with the pevensies than the one to two days in the book.  
> hope you enjoy this softness!
> 
> (title from "saturn" by sleeping at last)

Leaving behind a loud discussion of provisions between Trufflehunter and an exasperated mix of dwarves and beasts, Caspian escapes into the evening air. He takes only a few steps away from the pavilion before he inhales deeply and closes his eyes. With the battle long done and the Narnian camp settled, he feels as though it’s time that his heart slows down. He tries hard to expel the excess energy lingering in his body and making his hands clench at his sides. All he manages is a stuttering exhale. His nails press into his palms.

“Be at ease, Caspian.” Caspian jumps, turning to find Edmund a few steps away. Caspian makes an aborted bow and Edmund chuckles. 

“We’ve told you not to do that,” he says with sternness belied by the smirk on his face. 

It’s hard to let go of his awe when it comes to the kings and queens, no matter how often they insist on being addressed as his equals. A life full of their stories takes time to dislodge, he muses. “Apologies.” 

“You ought to join us by the fire.” Edmund’s hands, previously clasped behind his back, gesture towards the rowdy cluster of Narnians amidst the trees. “These celebrations are in no small part for you, after all.” 

Caspian drops his gaze to the floor, hoping the dusk’s shadows are enough to hide his blush. He clears his throat. “I admit that I feel out of place.” While he has spent the past month living among the old Narnians, the festivities still feel foreign to him. He doesn’t wish to be an intruder. 

“One grows used to it.” Caspian looks up to find Edmund looking at the dancing Narnians with a fond expression. He glances back to Caspian. “We did.”

Caspian nods in acknowledgement. Truthfully, he finds it hard to believe the four monarchs had once been foreigners like him to the Narnian ways. They seem so at ease; like they truly belong. He supposes it comes with time. He desperately hopes it does. 

Still feeling wound too tightly to enjoy himself, he rolls his shoulders and sighs. “I think I might take a walk before I join the crowd,” he says with an apologetic smile towards the king in front of him.

Edmund inclines his head, understanding and amusement on his face. “That’s quite alright. We’ll see you soon.” With that, he walks away. Caspian watches Lucy and Susan receive Edmund before he turns and starts ambling towards the river. He doesn’t quite know where he wants to go just yet, but the noise of rushing water draws him in. 

He is almost at the edge of where the bridge used to be when he hears a familiar voice swear emphatically off to his left. He turns, only to find Peter kneeling at the river’s edge, staring into the water with a frown.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” Caspian asks as he approaches. Peter looks up at him, and the frown melts away to be replaced with a broad smile. Caspian swallows at the swooping feeling in his stomach he’s grown to associate with the High King. Having Peter’s direct attention has proven to be more than his traitorous heart can handle, and it seems that things are not wishing to change now. 

“I’m quite alright,” Peter says and sits back with a huff. “I dropped the blimmin’ waterskin into the river, is all.” Caspian winces. There is no way the water hasn’t carried it far away by now. Peter snorts, the sound so unexpected that Caspian finds himself smiling at hearing it. “It’s what I get for forgetting what Narnian wine is like.”

The remark makes Caspian truly take in the state of the king. Peter’s face is flushed, his body relaxed in a way Caspian has never seen on him before. Purple stains adorn his lips. Caspian looks away and stares resolutely at the river rushing past them.

“How’re you holding up?” Peter asks, seemingly unbothered by Caspian’s lack of response.

Caspian shrugs, feeling self-conscious. “I was just thinking of taking a walk.” 

“Splendid idea.” Caspian hears a splash and looks over just in time to watch Peter pull his head back out of the water with a gasp. “Lion’s mane!” 

Caspian doesn’t stop himself from laughing, amusement overtaking his continued shyness in Peter’s presence. “I don’t know what you were expecting.”

Peter points an accusing finger at him, that sunrise smile not hampered in the least by the water dripping down his face. “Don’t you go looking so amused, before I think it a good idea to drop us both in.” 

Caspian doesn’t think Peter would do it but fights to restrain his face all the same. Years of training and hero-worship remind him suddenly that he is laughing at the High King of old. “Apologies, Your Majesty.” 

“Oh, none of that.” Peter clambers to his feet. He squints his eyes at Caspian, looking him up and down. Caspian, feeling even more insecure, starts fumbling with his hands, the urge to fidget winning out against the desire to appear composed. Peter hums knowingly. “You look tense.” 

“I’ve not managed to get rid of the battle’s energy, I’m afraid.” Caspian watches a look of sympathy dawn on Peter’s face. 

“Ah. I know the feeling.” His lips twitch, and he casts his eyes about the camp before looking back at Caspian. “I have just the solution.” 

“Yes?” 

Peter shakes out his wet hair, drops flying through the air. Caspian flinches at the feeling of water spraying into his face. Peter grins at him unapologetically before slapping the back of his hand into Caspian’s chest. “The first one to the field over there gets the other’s honey share.” Caspian barely has any time to register Peter pointing to the edge of the camp before the blond is off, pebbles giving way under stumbling feet. 

Caspian has just one second of hesitation, before adrenaline kicks in and he rushes after Peter. The cold breeze pushes against him, and his heart races in his chest. Peter whoops ahead of him, and Caspian laughs. It feels good to run, to feel his heart pumping with a much safer exertion than the earlier battle. As if a run is all that his mind and body had been craving, any worries seem to lag behind as he pushes himself to run even faster. 

It’s surprisingly hard to overtake the intoxicated High King, but Caspian cuts ahead just as they’re flying past the last tents. Caspian feels long grass brush past his knees. Then a sudden weight slams into his back, and he finds himself on his side in the field with Peter sprawled across him. Peter is laughing loudly, a sound so utterly beautiful that Caspian joins him immediately. Peter rolls off of him and lands on his back in the grass, laughter intercut with harsh breaths. 

“That was no honourable way to conduct a race, Your Highness,” Caspian manages to say once the laughter has mostly receded. 

“One must know when to leave honour behind in these things,” Peter says, and Caspian highly doubts Peter knows how to really let go of honour. The duel is too fresh in his mind for such beliefs. 

Caspian rolls onto his back and looks up at the darkening sky. The stars grow brighter every second as night draws in. His chest feels lighter. “Thank you.” 

Peter chuckles. “You’re quite welcome.” Caspian looks over to find him looking at the sky as well, a sort of uninhibited joy in every inch of his face. Caspian quickly looks away before his wandering mind decides to get lost in the sight of Peter. 

They spend a few minutes in silence, their breaths slowly returning to normal. Caspian feels more than sees Peter put his arms behind his head. He finds he doesn’t mind their proximity, no shyness or doubt creeping in and demanding he distance himself. A joyful smile stretches his face as he lets himself relax fully.

“I’ve missed the Narnian sky,” Peter says at last, and Caspian’s heart skips. He turns over to look at Peter again, any apprehension of being found staring forgotten in favour of wonder. 

“Is it different from the sky in your world?” The thought of a whole sky of stars different to the ones he’s known all his life feels awfully exciting. 

“Very.” Peter sighs and his eyes flit over to Caspian briefly. His mouth curves into a more subdued version of the smile that makes Caspian’s pulse flutter. “When we fell out of Narnia last year - hundreds of years ago, I suppose - I would often catch myself trying to find the Ship or the Leopard.”

“Do you have constellations in that world as well?”

“We do. I can’t remember them most times, mind you. Their names are much less intuitive.” 

Caspian looks up at the stars Doctor Cornelius taught him about. He remembers when he and his tutor watched Tarva and Alambil meet, how Doctor Cornelius had called it a dance; how Glenstorm had spoken of the stars with such a mysterious tone. “Have you ever seen them dance?” He wonders out loud. As High King, Peter would have been privy to much of Narnia’s stars, surely.

“Here or back on Earth?” 

“Either one, I suppose.”

Peter doesn’t answer for a long time. “Yes.” It’s so quiet that Caspian almost misses it, and the emotion in it makes him shiver. He knows there is more to it than what he witnessed up on that tower by the sound of Peter’s response.

“What’s- what’s it like?” His voice cracks and he curses it for making him stumble, but Peter doesn’t seem to pay it any mind.

“I’ve never seen Earth’s stars do it. I don’t think they can, not anymore at least. But here…” Peter shifts, his side a warm line pressed into Caspian. Caspian’s heart leaps in his throat when he feels Peter’s hand settle over his. “I can’t describe it to you.” 

Caspian feels Peter’s eyes on him and catches his gaze. In the growing darkness, he can barely make out the blue in Peter’s eyes shining with something otherworldly. “You’ll see them,” Peter says with such conviction that Caspian doesn’t even think to question him. 

Silence spreads between them once more, and Peter’s eyes turn back to the sky. Between them, Peter tangles his fingers with Caspian’s. The gesture is gentle, almost hesitant. Caspian, in a brief rush of courage, squeezes Peter’s hand. Peter lets out a soft laugh, and neither of them moves.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, be it hours or mere minutes. But all too soon for his liking, he becomes aware of a persistent ache in his limbs. Reluctantly, he sits up to stretch his arms. A thought enters his mind, and he looks back to Peter. “Why aren’t you with your siblings?” 

Peter, still lying in the grass, shrugs lightly. “Battles make me all too introspective.” He throws a self-deprecating smile Caspian’s way. “The wine was meant to loosen me up so that I would not, as Ed so kindly puts it, drag the party down into the depths of my guilt.” Caspian blinks at the frankness of the words. The reminder of the battle brings all his earlier worries rushing back. It makes his chest ache in a very unpleasant way, much more unwelcome than the swooping Peter induces. He rubs at his sternum. 

“Does it ever get easier?” The question spills out of him before he can ponder it for long, a sudden desperate need to hear Peter soothe his fears overriding everything else.

Peter doesn’t seem to need clarification. Pushing himself up to lean on his elbows, he looks at Caspian solemnly. He appears to be considering his answer carefully, but what he says is simple. “No.” 

It’s not the answer Caspian was hoping to get. He drops his head; the pressure of all that he fears making it hard to think. He barely notices Peter sitting up, only registering it when Peter tugs at the hand Caspian is still pressing against his chest. Caspian looks up. The solemn expression has been replaced with something warmer, softer.

“You learn to deal with it,” Peter says quietly. “It takes some time, but I promise that you do.” There is unshakeable certainty in the way he says it, and Caspian believes him. Then Peter chuckles. “Hopefully in a healthier way than I demonstrated for you tonight.”

Caspian smiles, and while the ache isn’t gone, he feels less like the lead in his stomach will drag him down right this moment. Peter is sitting cross-legged in front of him, knees touching his. He drops Caspian’s hand and leans back, regarding Caspian with a smile. 

“We’ve not had time to properly enjoy each other’s company, have we?”

“I suppose not,” Caspian says, thinking back on the constant rush of planning and hiding. There had been little time for leisure with the fight for survival occupying every moment. “It’s been quite busy.” 

Peter throws his head back and laughs. Caspian looks at him and feels utterly enchanted. It’s nice to see Peter like this, he decides. The High King is every bit as magnificent as the stories say, but Peter is much more than any tales his Nurse, or Doctor Cornelius ever spoke of. This version sitting in front of him feels like something private. It makes Caspian feel blessed; like he has been allowed to witness something few others have.

“Busy’s one word, yes,” Peter says with traces of laughter. “I don’t doubt that many have already found their bedrolls out of sheer exhaustion.” He nudges Caspian’s knee with his own. “I’m glad we’ve got some time now.” The expression on his face is inscrutable, the dark not helping Caspian at all in deciphering it. He thinks he sees something akin to contemplation. Peter sits upright again. 

“I’ve got something to show you.” Before Caspian can take note of the sudden change of energy, Peter grabs both of his hands and presses them into the damp grass between them. His hands cover Caspian’s, thumb resting against Caspian’s wrist. There is barely any space between them now. Caspian can smell the wine on Peter’s breath as it fans across his face. If their clasped hands earlier sent jolts through him, his mind and body can scarcely comprehend their closeness now.

“Close your eyes.” 

Caspian obeys without hesitation. There is something unknowable in Peter’s voice. It makes him want to push even closer, but he stays still in Peter’s grip. Gradually, the distant sounds of the camp start to fade away, until all he can hear is his own heart hammering in his chest, and Peter’s breath. Then, Caspian hears something else. A low hum surrounds them, coming from what feels like everywhere. The ground underneath his hands vibrates with the sound. Caspian gasps at the sensation. He wants to ask, but all his words get lost on the way to his mouth. 

The hum doesn’t turn into words, but Caspian feels like he can hear his name in it all the same. It feels like a chorus is calling out to him from all sides. He wonders if they’re floating; if they’ve somehow entered an ocean and are slowly dropping to the bottom. He doesn’t feel any water in his lungs, and most certainly feels no fear. All he feels is wonder and a wild sort of excitement. For a short while, Caspian thinks he might drift away. Peter’s hands are warm against his, the only anchor point in this strange space. There is a tug in his chest, and he wants to follow whoever is calling him. A warm wind is whipping around them, but he can’t figure out why it’s wind and not waves that pull at him.

“To be king means making many a sacrifice for our people.” Peter’s voice is clear, as loud as the hum, yet closer. “It means pushing past our fears, past the guilt, and to fight on despite it. It means being the first in every attack, and last in every retreat. We live to serve our people, and serve we shall, with everything that we have to give.” 

Caspian is caught between the sensation of falling and the feeling that time is frozen. He’s lost track of where he is supposed to be. All he can feel, and hear, is the voice calling out to him, and Peter. He thinks he will quite happily spend the rest of his life here. 

“But when we serve, and sacrifice, and lead, Narnia pays us back tenfold.” 

And suddenly Caspian knows what the hum against his palms is, what voice is calling his name. He wants to laugh and cry. He wants to fall back and let Narnia consume him in his entirety. For that is what is calling him with such wonderful promises of joy and prosperity. The wind increases to underline the growing hum, and it feels like Narnia herself is pushing and pulling at his shoulders. 

“Narnia lives and breathes through her people, through us.” There is a lilt to Peter’s words that makes Caspian feel slightly more real again, the falling sensation giving way to unbridled joy. Peter’s words are louder than the hum now. “We give ourselves over to her, and she gives us as much of herself in return.” 

Caspian doesn’t think he has ever been happier. It feels as if his heart might burst at the sheer amount of emotions filling up his chest. Narnia settles among the flood of feelings and Caspian knows he has come home at last.

“You’re Narnia’s to keep, Caspian. Trust her, and she will not lead you astray.” Caspian feels Peter’s words as much as he hears them. 

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes into the abyss that has grown around them. Peter hums as a response, perfectly matching Narnia’s tune beneath their hands. The sound is almost enough to make Caspian fold in on himself. Peter and Narnia sing in unison, and it’s very nearly too much for him to take. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, but gradually he becomes aware of the sounds of camp once more. The music made by the celebrating Narnians overtakes the hum. The pressure of Peter’s hands lessens, and Caspian opens his eyes. 

Night has truly settled in, and Caspian can just make out Peter’s silhouette in front of him. The weight of worry and the strain of battle are gone from him. All there is left is a sort of breathless wonder that bursts out of him as a laugh. Home, he thinks to himself, he has found his home.

With a gentle brush of his thumb, Peter takes his hands off of Caspian’s entirely. Caspian pries his palms away from the ground with some reluctance. His hands feel slightly numb, and he shakes them to try and regain feeling. He can feel Peter’s eyes on him, but the dark keeps him from seeing his expression. 

“Remind me to revisit this tomorrow, will you?” Peter’s voice carries amusement with it. 

Caspian frowns as he rubs the dirt off his palms. “What?” 

“I’ve something to say,” Peter says vaguely, “but as of right now, I am entirely too drunk for it to come across well.” 

Remembering Peter’s earlier words and the entrancing way he described Narnia, Caspian doesn’t think Peter would have trouble expressing himself even in front of an assembled court. He decides against pressing the other boy, still too caught up in his own euphoria. “I’ll try,” he says instead. 

“Brilliant.” Caspian feels Peter get up, and hastily does the same. He staggers briefly and finds himself colliding with a similarly unsteady Peter. Peter laughs and slings his arm over his shoulder. “Come on, we ought to join at least one dance.” 

And with their sides pressed together, Peter’s arm a welcome weight around Caspian’s weary shoulders, two kings return to their people. Underneath their feet, Narnia whispers her approval.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [narnia tumblr](https://bloodybigwardrobe.tumblr.com/) and am also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter), please talk to me about these two, narnia, or whatever else strikes your fancy :D


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